


Twelve Days

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas Fluff, Developing Relationship, F/M, Holidays, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: Most people just buy liquor or silly socks for an office holiday gift exchange. Brienne's gifter is going way overboard. She'd love to tell them to stop, if only she knew who they were.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 61
Kudos: 491
Collections: Sevenmas & Other Winter Holidays





	Twelve Days

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've twisted myself in pretzels trying to avoid saying either Christmas or Santa, not sure if it worked. And let's pretend I posted this on time instead of two days after Christmas, okay?

“Interesting weekend, Tarth?” 

Brienne cringed a little at the laughing voice behind her, and took a deep breath to fortify herself before turning around. She relaxed when she saw who’d laughed, then tensed again for an entirely different reason.

Jaime Lannister looked perfect as always, tailored suit skimming over his long, lean form, artfully mussed blonde curls, sparkling green eyes, and perfectly white, straight teeth in his mischievous smile. 

“What makes you say that?” 

He took a leisurely sip of his coffee, then reached out and touched her hair. She froze, readying a cutting remark, when he pulled back and showed her the soft white feather he’d pulled from her hair. “Pillowfights with Sansa Stark again? I’ve told you, Brienne, next time you must invite me.” His drawl and the laugh almost escaping kept his comment more amused and less smarmy. 

Brienne scowled at him. “It’s a chicken feather.”

Jaime’s grin widened and leaned against the cubicle wall. “You know they have those at the store pre-plucked, right?”

This time she shoved him a little, and he stuck his tongue out at her when his coffee sloshed over his hand. Then he licked it off, and places inside her clenched. No one should look that good, and no one who looked that good should be standing here talking to her.

“ _Someone_ ,” she said with exasperation, “thought it would be funny to send me three chickens on Saturday morning. I spent most of the morning trying to keep Sansa’s hound from eating them.” 

Jaime blanched. “Oh, well, who won?”

“Me,” she answered tartly. “And now there’s chicken shit all over my screened porch.” She hesitated. “And I had eggs this morning.” 

Jaime snorted a laugh. “So not  _ all  _ bad?”

She sighed. “No, just… weird. And kind of a pain. I think maybe they realized it was a ridiculous thing to do, because I got flowers yesterday.”

Jaime looked around her cubicle as if he expected to see them there. Nope, just the little potted sapling she’d received Thursday, with its sparkly bird ornament. Friday had been bird-shaped salt and pepper shakers. Someone had clearly gotten the erroneous idea that Brienne really liked birds. The blue and white bouquet had been decorated with birds too, four little black birds with wings so dark they were nearly blue. She’d been looking at her coworkers today with fresh eyes, trying to figure out who might be behind all the gifts.

“So you think they’re all from the same person?” Jaime asked, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. 

Brienne shrugged. “Either that or I have a sudden crop of admirers. Which one seems more likely?” She tried to keep the acid from her voice, but failed. Jaime understood. He’d transferred Ronnet Connington to another office when Connington wouldn’t stop making nasty comments about Brienne, some behind her back and some to her face.

“It does sound like they’re trying,” Jaime offered. 

Brienne idly touched the bird in the tree on her desk, making it sway and catch the light. It really was lovely, covered in little jewels. “More likely my gifter found out I’m getting promoted and would love to be recommended as my replacement.” 

“That’s awfully cynical of you,” Jaime chided. 

“Says the most cynical man I know,” she countered. 

He smiled easily. “I’m just old and bitter. You’re far too young to be like me.” He straightened up. “I need another coffee. You want one?” 

“Sure. Thanks.” Brienne couldn’t help but smile back. She’d been so annoyed when Jaime was hired to replace Renly, wary of his easy charm and his ruthless reputation. But he’d slowly won her over. It would be strange working alongside him in the new year instead of reporting to him, but she would be glad to get out of the cubicle farm and into an office. 

Jaime turned and sauntered away, and Brienne flipped through her mail before their morning meeting. Among the holiday cards from vendors and interoffice memos was a small box with a gold ribbon. 

_ Oh no, not again. _ At least it was too small to be an actual bird. 

“Ooh, what’s that?” Pod’s eager face was peeking up over the top of the cube wall. “Another present?”

“Looks like it,” Brienne said dryly. She liked Pod but he had a knack for stating the obvious. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Jaime asked, walking into her cube and setting a mug of coffee on her desk, just the right shade of creamy tan, a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. There were perks to having Jaime for a boss. The coffee in their department was top notch. 

“Maybe later,” Brienne answered. She didn’t like having an audience, particularly since she didn’t know who’d been sending the gifts. Surely Podrick was too young to think he had a chance at her job, and Jaime had no reason to butter her up, but both of them tended to indulge in office gossip more than she would prefer. 

Pod’s disappointed face sank below the partition. 

Jaime touched her shoulder. “Meeting in ten, okay?” 

Brienne tore her gaze away from the little gift box and gave Jaime a quick smile. “Sure. Thanks for the coffee.”

He winked. “Gotta keep my team in peak condition, Tarth. Can’t let Greyjoy outperform us.”

“Right.” Brienne rubbed the velvety red wrapping paper as she set it down by her keyboard. Ten minutes. She’d never get through all her messages in that time. She made a valiant effort, but the little gift kept catching her eye.

Finally, with a minute before she needed to leave for the meeting, she gave up. If she didn’t open the damn thing now, she’d spend the whole meeting wondering about it, speculating what was inside. 

Pod heard the wrapping paper crinkling as she carefully removed it without tearing, and his head popped over the divider again. 

Brienne ignored him. The box revealed no clues, so she worked the top loose. There was a velvety box inside. A jeweler’s box. Whoever this was, they were willfully breaking the 30 dragon limit on gifts. She flipped the box and steeled herself for the bird pendant or brooch that was undoubtedly inside. 

Something jingled inside as the box slid into her palm. Whatever was in there had fallen loose when she upended the box. Brienne could hear Pod’s loud breathing above her. Carefully turning it back over, Brienne opened it. 

Several delicate rings were tumbled inside. She pulled them out one by one and set them on her desk. 

One had a tiny blue jewel. Another was rose gold. One had a tiny sun etched into it, another a crescent moon. The last was a simple hammered gold circlet. Experimentally, Brienne tried one on. It fit. It also looked ridiculously small on her large, blunt fingers, so she piled them all on. They fit like a puzzle, stacked together. Costume jewelry, obviously, but good quality.

Pod started humming under his breath, and it took her a moment to catch the tune. 

_ Five golden rings…. _

“Oh, no,” Brienne breathed. 

“This. Is. Awesome,” Pod said, clapping his hands.

“No, it’s not,” Brienne corrected, jumping to her feet. She needed to get to her meeting. She did not have time to deal with this.

Except the meeting was mind-numbingly dull and only tangentially related to her job. And after the third time she found herself fiddling with the rings, Jaime pushed a note in front of her asking if someone was trying to woo her away from him. 

Brienne flushed so hot that Asha Greyjoy started giving her funny looks across the table. When the meeting ended, Brienne bolted back to her desk and put her headphones on, diving into the end-of-year reports so that her team would leave her alone for the rest of the day. 

Long after everyone else left, she looked up the lyrics of that ridiculous song. Twelve days, she’d never understood why there were twelve days. Seven aspects of God, seven days, it only made sense. As a child she’d been forced to sing holiday songs in school, but holidays were fraught at home, crowded with ghosts who only her father truly remembered. Brienne never could remember the lyrics from year to year.

A partridge. Turtledoves. Hens. Colly birds. Geese. Swans. Why were they so obsessed with birds? Whoever this was, surely they wouldn’t dare send birds to the office. This whole thing would fizzle out and she’d get a nice jar of snack mix or generic box of chocolates at the holiday party. 

But when Brienne arrived at the office the next morning, all her coworkers were standing by the windows, some laughing, others aghast. “What’s going on?” she asked, approaching Podrick.

He moved aside to let her see. “Pia is trying to get paper from the supply room across the atrium.”

Brienne shouldered into the gap and peered out the windows into the atrium that brightened the top four floors of the building. Pia, Jaime’s assistant, was sprinting along the well-tended paths in high heels and a tight pencil skirt, which was foolhardy enough. But tearing along behind her was a large angry goose, honking furiously, its head lowered menacingly. Another came up alongside and added its angry voice to the cacophony echoing through the atrium. Workers from other companies were also clustering around their windows watching the scene. 

Her heart sank. She didn’t even need to count them to know there would be six. Where did they get six geese? How did they get them up to the tenth floor? How did no one see any of this? It was simultaneously fiendishly clever and profoundly stupid. Brienne sighed and turned away from the window, spotting Jaime in his office across the sea of cubicles, his phone pressed to his cheek and one hand raking through his hair. Hopefully he was calling someone to remove the feathered menace from their building. 

By the time Brienne got her coffee and settled in to sort her mail, two frankly terrified-looking men in heavy padded jumpsuits were wrestling the geese into large crates and hauling them away. Pia was given the rest of the day off.

Brienne considered taking the next day off. Seven swans a swimming? She shuddered to think of how her secret gifter might terrify the staff with that one. The lack of ponds near her home or the office might not stop him. She was fairly sure it was a man. No woman would think sending live geese to an office building was a good idea.

But she forced herself to go into the office, and found seven rubber swans, of the size to swim in her bathtub, arrayed on her desk. 

The next day, just as end-of-year reports were coming due, two food trucks pulled up out front, and eight young ladies came in to invite the employees to take a break and order whatever they liked. The bill was paid in full. And for the next hour, the entire office indulged in ice cream and hot chocolate, laughing and chatting and getting away from their computer screens for a little while. 

Brienne heard several of her coworkers speculating that the building management had paid for the trucks. Poor Podrick was practically vibrating with the need to tell everyone it was Brienne’s secret gifter, but with a look she put the fear of the Warrior in him and he kept quiet. No one would believe him anyway, and she couldn’t take the laughter that would surely follow Pod’s revelation.

The next day a gift card for dance lessons made its way to her desk. 

Blessedly, Saturday passed quietly, with only a history tome about the ancient Houses appearing in her mailbox. Brienne spent the afternoon shopping with Sansa, picking out a few gifts for her father and friends, and spending a frustrating hour searching for something to give her secret giftee, head of accounting Stannis Baratheon. She settled on a book about ancient currencies and hoped he didn’t already own it. 

Sunday, which she had been dreading, a courier delivered a disc of music featuring a group of bagpipers that appeared every year at their local Targaryen-era Faire. Thank the Mother, because Mrs. Roelle down the street called the police constantly. She hated everything, from crying babies to Sansa’s dog, and pipers would certainly incite a noise complaint.

That left Monday, and the drummers. After everything else that had happened, it wouldn’t have surprised her if a high school marching band paraded through the office Monday, but the morning passed uneventfully. With reports turned in and a week-long holiday ahead, there were no meeting and few real tasks to accomplish. Most people simply got coffee and chatted about their holiday plans while fielding stray calls or emails. 

All morning, she couldn’t help but wonder, every time a coworker passed her cubicle, which one was behind the gifts. Which of these people had bought the rings she was wearing? After her third cup of coffee, delivered with unerring timing by Jaime each time her cup ran low, she couldn’t get past the idea that this might be another situation like Hyle and his friends back in college, jerks only being nice to her for sport. She pulled the rings off and shoved them in her pocket. 

She was dreading the gift exchange now. They’d have to out themselves then, wouldn’t they?

When noon rolled around, she could hear the caterers setting up in the break room, Pia and Podrick eagerly decorating the conference room with snowflakes and ribbon. Her stomach flipped over. So far, her gifter had kept her name off the truly disruptive gifts, but if he revealed himself at the party everyone would know she was responsible for Pia’s goose bite. 

At least the chickens had come to her house. They were still on the porch, in cozy little crates she’d rigged up with some hay inside, ready for their trip to Tarth in two days. Her father liked to feel productive and needed, and keeping the local foxes out of an actual henhouse would do the trick.

Just as she was about to get up and take Stannis’s wrapped gift to the gift table draped with tinsel and twinkling lights, Jaime sat on the edge of her desk. He grinned down at her, a brightly wrapped package in his hand. He held it out to her.

“You didn’t have to get me something,” Brienne protested, suddenly worried that she should have reciprocated. She’d seen a few things Jaime would have loved while she was shopping for Stannis, but hesitated to buy them. Was that a thing, buying a gift for your boss? He was something more than just her boss, they had long text conversations sometimes in the evenings, and Jaime had talked her into joining him in the gelato-making class Tyrion had given him as a birthday gift. She was still convinced that their chocolate pistachio praline should have won the class competition. 

Jaime laughed. “Open it before you get too excited, Tarth.”

Brienne took the package and unwrapped a gold nameplate.  _ Brienne Tarth, production and logistics manager.  _ She got a chill down her back just reading it. “Thank you, Jaime.”

A frown creased his brow. “Don’t thank me, you earned it.” He glanced up as music started playing in the conference room. “Come on, let’s go see who copies their ass and who Margaery drags under the mistletoe.” 

The answer to the first question was Euron Greyjoy, who was packed into a rideshare long before gifts were exchanged. Brienne lost track of the number of “lucky” men Marg lured into kissing her. She did notice how Jaime kept at least two people between him and Margaery, and mercilessly teased him about it. 

Brienne was nursing her third cranberry wine spritzer when the gift giving rolled around. Podrick parked himself next to her, and Jaime on the other side, offering her nibbles from his plate. The man always seemed to be eating, but you’d never know it from his physique. Pia blushed as she handed him a gaudily-wrapped package, barely glancing at Brienne when she shoved a heavy box into her lap. 

Stannis did crack a brief smile when he opened his present, and Brienne accepted his thanks. When her turn came, she carefully tore open the wrapping and found a rose-scented jar candle.

“Thank you,” she said as politely as she could manage. She’d give it to pretty, petite Pia who didn’t associate the heady scent with humiliation.

A ginger-haired man she only knew in passing smiled broadly and accepted her thanks. He was one of the security guards in the lobby, a transfer from up north somewhere. Torrhen? She couldn’t imagine why, or how, he’d gone to so much trouble for her. 

Awhile later, when he hadn’t approached her, Brienne made her way across the office to where he was refilling his cup. He seemed to be adding liquor to his cup at random from a variety of bottles. 

“Excuse me,” she said, trying not to surprise him while he was pouring.

The man stiffened for a moment, and set down a bottle of white chocolate liqueur. He picked up his cup and took a long drink as he turned around, milky liquid spilling down his full, wiry beard. He grinned at her again. “Hello, there.” His eyes were sort of twinkly and very blue. 

“Hi, I just wanted to thank you again.” Brienne paused awkwardly. He was shorter than her. Most men were, but he was gazing up at her in an oddly avid way she didn’t trust. She wanted to take several steps away from him. She didn’t, because she had manners, but she wanted to. “You didn’t have to get me anything today.”

He frowned. “Of course, I did. I drew your name.”

“Right, I know. I just mean, you’d already done so much.” She hadn’t expected it to be this awkward. She hadn’t really expected to have to approach him at all. Hadn’t he spent the last twelve days spending a lot of time and money trying to get her attention?

His frown deepened. “Can’t say I know what you mean, lass. Mebbe you’re thinking of someone else. I’m Tormund, not sure we’ve met. I’m on night security most of the time, mebbe you see me on your way home.” He held out a large, rough hand. 

Brienne took his hand and shook it. His sweater looked like it had fit him 20 pounds ago and his fingers were oddly greasy. He also quite obviously had no idea what she was talking about. She could feel her face heating, turning that horrible blotchy red that she hated so much. “Brienne. I must’ve confused you with someone else. Sorry.” 

“No trouble, Brienne. Come talk to Tormund at the security desk anytime. Always happy to walk a woman to her car, even a big woman like yourself. You don’t look like you need much protecting.” Tormund winked at her. He clearly thought this was a compliment.

Brienne attempted a smile, but she couldn’t hold it for long. She fled across the room, and kept right on going out the door, across the office, and back to her cubicle. Whoever had been sending the gifts was clearly just messing with her, trying and succeeding in making a fool of her. It wasn’t the first time, but it still hurt.

The party wasn’t mandatory. She didn’t have to stay, and right now an evening on her couch surrounded by wine and chocolate watching terrible cheesy movies sounded like a vast improvement over smalltalk with the people she saw every day. 

She shrugged into her coat and reached down for her bag. Crumpled wrapping paper in her wastebasket caught her eye. It was bright red, and covered in little drummers. 

Suddenly those drinks she’d had seemed like a very, very bad idea. Her stomach was doing a series of flips rivalled only by medal-winning gymnasts. And she was very glad she was sitting down. 

Jaime had given her drummers. But he couldn’t have given her the rest of the gifts. He wasn’t her secret gifter. Then again neither was Tormund. No. Those gifts couldn’t have come from Jaime. That was impossible.

Hands shaking more than she’d like to admit, Brienne peeked over the cubicle walls to the party on the other side of the office. She could see Jaime through the glass, talking to Podrick, and then he saw her. 

Brienne ducked beneath the cubicle wall again and grabbed her bag. She must be wrong. Jaime wouldn’t mess with her like this. Maybe when they first met, when they’d mixed about as well as oil and water, but they’d been through a lot over the past year and a half, and they were more oil and vinegar now: shake them up, add some spices and you got something that worked. 

The drummers were a coincidence, nothing more, and it was time for her to go. She’d probably find a dozen toys on her doorstep when she got home.

Brienne stood, bag slung over her shoulder, and headed for the door. No one followed her into their empty office foyer, and the elevator was equally empty when she stepped inside. She pressed the button for the parking garage and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors started to close.

And then an arm shot into the elevator, the doors bouncing open again to admit Jaime Lannister, looking only slightly harried. He carried her little potted tree sapling, its jeweled bird swaying against the leaves. The doors closed again, leaving them alone. “You forgot this.”

“Thanks.” She reached out and took the tree as the elevator descended. 

“Not a potted plant person?”

“Not a party person right now.” She was only off-balance because of the elevator, not because of him. But she let herself look at him, effortlessly handsome in his slate gray suit and crimson tie. 

Jaime took a step closer as the elevator continued down. “Why not?”

He looked so concerned she decided to be honest. If nothing else, they’d always been honest with each other. “I just made a fool of myself in front of the security guy.”

“The one with the beard? How? You were polite about his stupid candle.” Jaime spat the last sentence like he was deeply offended on her behalf Which was hilarious coming from someone who had given Asha Greyjoy a coffee mug covered in ceramic tentacles.

“I thought he was the guy,” Brienne admitted. It sounded so stupid saying it aloud. Of course a security guard she’d never spoken to hadn’t sent her all those gifts.

“The guy? Which guy?” Jaime’s brow was adorably furrowed, but she didn’t quite buy his innocent act. He’d seen some of the gifts, after all.

“The one who sent me all the gifts,” she answered flatly.

Jaime looked away. “Oh. So he wasn’t, then?”

“No.” 

The elevator came to a disorienting stop and the doors opened. She walked out into the deserted lobby, festooned with twinkling lights. Jaime followed her out. 

“You really don’t have any idea who it was?” Jaime asked, and something in his tone caught her attention. Frustration?

Brienne turned to face him. “The drummers.”

He took just a second too long to ask, “What?”

“On the wrapping paper. Don’t play dumb.” She’d realized quickly that Jaime was smarter than he let on, and she hated when he played down to others’ expectations. They thought because he was attractive and came from money that he’d skated through life on his father’s name and his smile. 

Jaime looked away. “Don’t have to play dumb. Just ask my father or my sister.”

Brienne resisted the urge to shake him. He was infuriating sometimes. “Do not start that right now, Jaime. I don’t have half an hour to stroke your ego. Now.” She took a deep breath. “Chickens?” 

He shrugged helplessly. “I thought they’d be cute little chicks!” 

Of course he did. Sweet Mother, for a man who was truly excellent at his job and well-loved by his staff, he could be such a child sometimes. “The geese?” 

Jaime’s cheeks colored and he looked away. “I thought I’d canceled it.”

“The food trucks must have cost you a fortune.” Suddenly another thought occurred to her. “Those rings aren’t costume jewelry, are they?”

Jaime shook his head. “Of course not.” 

“Oh gods, Jaime. What were you—” She huffed out a heavy breath. “You weren’t thinking, were you? It was all just a joke, because you could and we were all so stressed.” 

He shook his head, his mouth twisted in irritation. “Sure, I bought you rings to boost the department’s morale. What a great joke.”

She shifted the potted plant against her hip. “What else would it be?”

Jaime ran a palm down his face, over his beard. “Brienne, you were my employee until noon today.”

“Yes, I’m well aware, thank you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Then you might remember this company has a fraternization policy.”

“Prohibiting management from dating anyone who reports to them. Yes, I remember the trouble with Mya Stone and Mychel Redfort.” Redfort hadn’t been the first man dipping his quill in the company ink, but he’d been the most brazen about it. 

Jaime stared at her. “Forget the chickens and the geese. Why would I send you all these things now?”

She was getting annoyed with his evasions, and particularly the way he was looking at her like she was missing something really obvious. 

“For Seven’s sake, Tarth, even Podrick figured it out. If you’re not interested just tell me, but don’t pretend you don’t know I’ve been wooing you these last weeks.” Jaime sounded so annoyed she had to believe him.

Which was impossible. Jaime Lannister wooing her? “With chickens?” 

Jaime laughed. “Forget the thrice-damned chickens. I like you, though the gods know why, you’re thick as a castle wall when you want to be.”

Brienne felt hot and tingly all over, and she was starting to wish that she wasn’t carrying a potted plant right now. “They are sort of cute. When they’re not squawking and crapping everywhere.” 

Jaime groaned. “If I have to hear one more word about those chickens…”

She smiled. “You’ll what?”

“Let them loose? I don’t know. Can we just… go somewhere? Have dinner maybe? Or drinks if that’s too much. I just want to get out of here. You can chastise me for the geese if you like.” His handsome face was so earnest, it would be hard to deny him.

But she could still tease him a little. “I’m going to chastise you for the geese no matter what. Poor Pia.”

He nodded. “I know. I felt terrible.” 

“That was really stupid,” she agreed.

He shrugged. “I know.”

Brienne hefted the plant higher on her hip and set out toward the door again. 

This time Jaime didn’t follow. 

She looked back over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Where are we going?” he asked, a smile taking over his face as he caught up with her. 

“Steak? Seafood?” she suggested.

Jaime’s brow furrowed, and then he laughed. “Got it. No birds.”

“Right. No birds.” Brienne smiled back at him, and silently thanked whoever wrote that terrible song. 

  
  
  



End file.
